


Traces of Atrocity

by SaucyWench



Series: Cups and Roses [10]
Category: Being Human (UK), The Almighty Johnsons
Genre: Blood Drinking, Breathplay, D/s tones, M/M, Profanity, Rough Sex, Sexual Content, Vampire insticts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-23
Updated: 2015-12-23
Packaged: 2018-05-08 16:14:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5504354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaucyWench/pseuds/SaucyWench
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anders stayed out late.  Mitchell was worried.  They both need to blow off some steam.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Traces of Atrocity

Mitchell glanced at the clock again, even though he knew it had only been a few minutes since he checked last. It was past midnight and there was still no word from Anders. He prowled up and down the short hallway in the flat, going from bedroom, past the kitchen, back to the living room. A pause to glance at the door and he made the circuit again.

He was fully dressed in the clothing he used as armor: black combat boots, black skinny jeans, t-shirt with a long-sleeved button-down plaid over that, and his ever present fingerless gloves. He patted his pockets, taking inventory. He had the house key, his cigarettes and lighter, and his pocketknife. All he had to do was grab his jacket, and head out the door.

At least, if he knew where to go. He had gotten a text from Anders saying that Mike was calling some family thing and that he’d be home as soon as possible. That was hours ago, while Anders was still at work, and Mitchell hadn’t heard anything since.

Mitchell hated these family meetings Anders had to attend. Most of the time, Anders came home bruised and aching. Even if there were no physical marks he was always subdued, quick to flinch away and make jokes to play it off. After these meetings, it took days for his smile to reach his eyes again.

Mike and the others said it was none of Mitchell’s business, it was a family thing, dealing with godly matters. He thought the reason he wasn’t invited is because he would not tolerate anyone mistreating Anders. It would crimp their plans if Mitchell was there to stand up for Anders and not allow them to use him as they had done all their lives.

Passing by the kitchen again, he paused to take a long drink of the whiskey waiting in the glass on the counter. Drinking alcohol on an empty stomach while he was this agitated might not be the best idea, but he had quit caring about that after his third glass. Or maybe it had been his fourth. He lost count, and he couldn’t remember why he ever thought it was important to keep it.

He heard a key rattle in the door, and he tensed. He set the glass back on the counter, and waited. He relaxed a bit when he saw Anders walk into the flat.

“You’re home! I was starting to get worried!” He crossed the room, holding a hand out.

Anders didn’t take it, though. He dropped his briefcase by the door and kicked off his shoes. He headed to the kitchen. As he passed Mitchell, without looking up he muttered, “Sorry.”

Mitchell trailed behind, noting the way Anders looked at his feet, the slumped posture, and the clenched jaw. Tonight must have been bad. He knew what the answer would be, but he asked anyway. “Is everything okay?”

“Fine.” Anders still didn’t look at him, opting instead to get a glass from the cupboard.

“What happened?”

Now Anders finally glanced at him as he said, “Same shit, different day.”

The muscle in Mitchell’s jaw jumped as he tried to keep a hold on his temper. It wasn’t Anders he was angry with, it was his whole damn family. What had they done to him? Anders looked pale and washed out. Even the vibrant blue twinkle of his eyes had turned to a muted grey.

Mitchell wanted to take Anders in his arms, hold him and protect him from the world. He knew that wouldn’t be welcomed right now, though. When Anders was like this, there were only two forms of comfort he would accept. One was the bottle of vodka in the freezer. The other was sex, usually with a dash of pain. He couldn’t do anything about the drinking, but pain was something Mitchell understood. Giving it or receiving it, he didn’t care, because either way it would help Anders.

Mitchell stepped forward, crowding Anders against the counter, and said, “Get undressed.”

Anders flicked a glance at Mitchell’s face before looking down again. He slipped sideways, abandoning his glass and heading to the living room. He didn’t say anything but there was a new tension to the line of his neck and slope of his shoulders that hadn’t been there before.

Willing to play along, Mitchell followed him. After a couple of steps, he grabbed Anders’ jacket, using it to whirl him around and slam his back into the wall. He used his arms to cage Anders, pinning him in place by leaning against him. He growled, “Get undressed. I’m not asking.”

Being on edge all night had Mitchell’s senses hyper-aware. He heard the heavy thump of Anders’ heart before it started beating faster. Anders’ pupils started to dilate before he narrowed his eyes. The next few seconds would dictate how the rest of the night would go. Mitchell wasn’t sure if Anders would lash out or capitulate. He braced himself to be ready either way.

Anders bit his lip and looked down before he started shrugging out of his jacket. He let it fall to the floor and then started unbuttoning his shirt.

Mitchell stepped back, giving Anders room to undress. He sat on the arm of the couch and crossed his arms, watching as Anders stripped. Anders didn’t look up or try to tease. Soon enough he was naked, and stood there with his head bowed.

“Come here,” Mitchell ordered.

Anders came and stood in front of him, but Mitchell grabbed his arm and pulled him closer, forcing Anders to straddle his legs. Mitchell wrapped one arm around Anders’ waist to hold him in place. He ran the fingers of his other hand down the cleft of Anders’ buttocks, smiling when Anders shivered. Mitchell told him, “Fetch the lube.”

He watched as Anders padded down the hall. Mitchell stood up and peeled off his gloves, tossing them on to the table as Anders came back. Anders offered him the bottle of lube while staring at his feet. Standing there, Anders looked small and fragile, vulnerable stripped of clothes and his cocky attitude. It made Mitchell want to wreck him, have him covered in sweat and begging before drinking him down. Mitchell wanted to rip away the memories that made Anders look like that and replace them with his own image. He murmured, “For I am a jealous god.”

That made Anders look up with a frown. Or maybe that was Bragi, displeased by the biblical quote. It didn’t matter. Mitchell plucked the lube from Anders’ hand and caught his wrist. He didn’t give Anders a chance to say anything. Mitchell manhandled Anders into the position he wanted, pushing him forward to lean on the arm of the couch, kicking his legs apart with a booted foot.

“Don’t move.” Mitchell loved seeing Anders like this, spread out and defenseless. He trailed a hand up the back of Anders’ thigh. Anders jumped and Mitchell felt his eyes flash to black.

He popped open the lube and squeezed a liberal amount into his hand, smearing it over his fingers. He dropped it on the floor and started to work Anders open. He knew he was rushing it, but Anders arched back against his hand anyway. He used his free hand to press against the small of Anders’ back and growled, “I said don’t move.”

Anders let his head fall forward, but Mitchell could still hear his breathing speed up, and the little whimper every time he grazed Anders’ prostate. Finally he couldn’t wait anymore. He pulled his fingers out fast enough that Anders made a distressed sound at the loss. Mitchell ignored it, unfastening his jeans and pulling them down just far enough to free his cock. After slicking it up with the rest of the lube still on his hand, he grabbed Anders by the hips, jerking him upright and around to switch places with him. Mitchell leaned back, sitting against the arm of the couch, and pulled Anders into his lap. He paused just long enough to line up with his free hand, then yanked Anders back, impaling him on his cock and bottoming out in one hard thrust.

Mitchell had to stop and wait for a moment. Not only to let Anders adjust, but because Anders felt so hot and tight around him. Anders shifted and Mitchell felt his fangs drop. He clamped a hand on Anders’ hip to hold him still.

“Mitch, please,” Anders whispered and wriggled again.

Mitchell let go of Anders’ hip and grabbed his cock instead. He heard Anders gasp as he started pumping his fist. He wrapped his other arm around and up Anders’ chest, pulling him closer and holding his jaw. Anders let his head fall back to rest on Mitchell’s shoulder.

God, he loved this. He loved how vibrant and alive Anders felt in his arms. He loved knowing how to bring Anders to the edge and keep him there. He loved how Anders rolled his hips and got a little catch at the end of each inhale as he got closer to orgasm. He loved being buried to the hilt inside Anders and feeling him quiver as he got closer to release.

Mitchell could feel Anders’ heartbeat against his chest, mirrored where they were joined. When he shifted his thumb he could feel it in Anders’ throat, too. He pressed a kiss to the other side of Anders’ neck and set his fangs against the spot. Anders tilted his head, allowing for better access, and reached up to tangle one hand in Mitchell’s hair and pull him closer.

Except this wasn’t right. This didn’t smell like his Anders. It smelled like pot from Olaf, the cheap body spray Axl used, a whiff of winter air from Ty, and anger and aggression that were probably left from an argument with Mike. It smelled like fighting and enemies and things he needed to eliminate so he could have his Anders back.

He could feel the pulse between his teeth speeding up, fluttering like a moth caught in a web. He could bite down and set it free, drink it down, watch it run across pale skin and pool on the floor. He knew the best time would be right as Anders began his orgasm, giving the blood a tang from the endorphins and adrenaline. He sucked the vein harder, not piercing the skin yet, just savoring the feel of it in his mouth, rolling it around like candy. He knew the blood would start out hot and slick, almost oily before it started to cool and turn tacky. Then he’d be able to lick it up and off his fingers like it was a sweet syrup.

A part of his mind was screaming not to do this, they didn’t want to hurt Anders, they didn’t want to lose him. The vampire rationalized that if they did this, no one would be able to hurt Anders ever again. No one would be able to take Anders away. Anders would drink from him and change and then be theirs forever. His hips bucked up at the thought, and Anders moaned.

“John, please!”

The familiar voice made Mitchell pause. What was he doing? This was not what he wanted. The bloodlust had gone too far to make it easy to pull back though, especially with Anders so pliant and willing in his arms. He needed Anders to fight back while he still had enough clarity to let him go. All he could think of was to clamp down with both hands: one around Anders’ cock to cut off his impending orgasm, and the other around his throat to cut off his air.

Of course, being Anders, the first thing he reached for was his dick. Then it registered that he wasn’t able to breathe, and the hand let go of Mitchell’s hair to tug at the one at his throat. Mitchell eased his grip enough to let Anders get a sip of air before clamping down again. He needed Anders to get angry, not to pass out.

Now Anders was using both hands to pull at Mitchell’s grip around his neck. The vampire growled, but Mitchell let go. Anders didn’t have time to take a breath before Mitchell was pushing him up, pulling out and standing up only to spin them both around. He shoved Anders forward and held him bent over the couch arm, pinning him in place with a hand on the nape of his neck. He lined up, thrust into Anders and began fucking him hard and fast.

“Fuck, Mitchell.” Anders was still out of breath, but that was okay. His voice helped ground Mitchell more. Anders reached between his legs, but Mitchell caught his hands and pinned them at the small of his back.

This wasn’t about getting Anders off right now. This was about turning the bloodlust into the more human kind of lust. Having Anders trapped under him, not having that unfamiliar scent pressed into his nose, being able to see Anders more clearly, all of that helped. Once Mitchell came and took the edge off, then he would take care of Anders. Right now wasn’t about sex. It was about keeping Anders alive. He kept up the brutal pace until he came with one last hard snap of his hips and a snarl. It helped. At least he didn’t think he was going to rip out Anders’ throat anymore.

Anders wriggled and whined. “Don’t tell me you’ve finished.”

“I’m not done with you yet,” Mitchell promised as he pulled out, careful not to hurt Anders now. He pulled Anders up and turned him once more, helping him to lean back against the arm of the couch before dropping to his knees.

This was better. Here it smelled like Anders, underlain with his own musky scent. There was nothing else interfering, marking this as the vampire’s territory. Instead of the urge to rip and feast, this smell brought forth the instinct to protect and claim.

He nudged Anders’ legs apart and watched as a trickle of come leaked out and ran down his inner thigh. Mitchell scooped it up, tracing its path before pushing two fingers into Anders. He wiggled his fingers, relishing the feeling of his own spend, knowing a part of him was inside of Anders, satisfying the vampire part of him. He pressed his thumb up into Anders’ perineum as he curled his fingers, listening to Anders moan as he rubbed across the sensitive gland there.

Mitchell knew his eyes were still black as he looked up at Anders and said, “I want to feed from you when you come.”

Anders mouth was open, panting for breath as he nodded and said, “Fuck yeah, do it, John.”

Mitchell watched Anders’ face as he kept flexing his fingers, rolling Anders’ prostate between them and his thumb. He never broke eye contact as he took Anders’ cock into his mouth.

Anders whispered a string of obscenities and let his eyes flutter closed. He tangled his fingers in Mitchell’s hair and muttered, “Have I told you how much I enjoy your lack of a gag reflex?” When Mitchell hummed assent, Anders groaned and thrust forward.

Mitchell kept his fingers moving, but otherwise let Anders do the work. It was only fair. He had used Anders, now it was Anders turn to use him. Not that he would complain about it anyway. Anders making those noises while fucking his throat was something Mitchell enjoyed too. He slid his free hand around Anders’ hips, encouraging him to go deeper and harder.

“Fuck, I’m close, John,“ Anders whispered. His legs were starting to shake and he was getting that little hitch in his breath again.

Mitchell slid his hand from Anders’ hip as he pulled his mouth off with a lewd slurp. He glanced up and saw Anders watching again as he leaned back, letting a string of saliva stretch between his mouth and the tip of Anders’ cock. He licked his lips and it broke as he started working Anders with his hand, still keeping the fingers of his other one massaging inside. Without breaking rhythm, Mitchell let his fangs drop and leaned forward to press a kiss against the artery at the crease of Anders’ thigh.

Anders leaned back more, supporting himself by his arms, fingers digging into the arm of the couch. He started trembling before his whole body went rigid and he cried out, “Now!”

As Anders’ cock jumped and pulsed in his hand, Mitchell bit down. He still didn’t trust his self-control, so instead of the quick puncture he normally did, he slowly sank his fangs into Anders’ leg. He was cautious because he knew too deep of a bite here would be just as fatal as one in the neck. A smaller wound meant a slower flow of blood, but it was better than the alternative. He pressed at the bite with his tongue to encourage the flow, and Anders moaned.

He drank and worked Anders through his orgasm and the aftershocks. The tang was there, just as he anticipated, along with the metallic hot copper of the blood and the weird aftertaste of rosewater that was unique to Anders. Then again, Anders was the only god he had ever fed from, so maybe that was more Bragi than Anders. He pulled his hands out and away before Anders became overstimulated. After a few more swallows, he licked across the punctures to help them seal. He closed his eyes, leaned his forehead against Anders’ lower stomach, and took a deep breath.

Anders sounded shaky but amused when he asked, “Did you just sniff my cock?”

“Not your cock,” Mitchell murmured without opening his eyes. “Just you.”

“Yes, well, your nose is right above my cock, and since you’re sniffing, that means you’re sniffing my cock. The sniffing thing is already a little weird, Mitch. Let’s try not making it even weirder, yeah?”

Mitchell let out a watery laugh, but sat back on his heels. When he let go, Anders wobbled a bit. He was up in a flash, catching Anders before he could fall.

“Did you eat dinner?” Mitchell asked as he guided Anders around to sit on the couch.

“I was up to my eyeballs in god crap. I didn’t have time to eat.” Anders grabbed the throw from the back of the couch and wrapped up before sitting down. He looked at Mitchell and smirked. With a wave of his hand, he said, “You can probably put that away for now. You look ridiculous. You also have come on your shirt.”

Mitchell glanced down and snorted. He tucked his dick back into his pants and muttered, “I didn’t even get undressed. Sorry about that.”

“I’m not. It was hot.” Anders gave a leer.

It was good hearing Anders sound more like himself. He still looked tired and pale, though. Mitchell told him, “Stay here. I’ll fix you a snack and then we can clean up.”

Anders nodded and tugged the blanket up over his shoulders.

Mitchell went to the kitchen and pulled out the ingredients for a sandwich. It was as he was pouring a glass of orange juice when his hands started to shake. He set the juice on the counter so he wouldn’t drop it, and then covered his face with his hands and fought off tears.

Tonight had been close. Too close by far. He had been ready to drain Anders and turn him. It had seemed like a logical thing to do at the time. If he turned Anders, then his brothers could not hurt him anymore. And Mitchell would never be able to forgive himself.

He wiped a hand across his mouth and went back to making the sandwich. He knew what he should do. He should make sure Anders was well, and then leave. It was not safe for Anders if he stayed. True, Anders helped keep his bloodlust under control, but he couldn’t risk something like this happening again. What if he couldn’t stop next time?

But he loved Anders. And Anders, with his sarcasm and attitude and prickly personality, loved him too. No matter how he phrased it, whatever Mitchell said would come out as ‘it isn’t you, it’s me.’ Anders wouldn’t believe that and it would crush him. Even so, wouldn’t it be better for Anders to hate him and still be alive?

He took the juice and sandwich into the living room. He handed them to Anders, who took them with a smile.

After a sip of the juice, Anders said, “Come sit with me.”

Mitchell sat down and Anders scooted closer, snuggling up against his side. Mitchell turned and buried his face in Anders’ hair, taking a deep breath. Now Anders smelled like sweat and sex, but he also smelled of love and home. It was the smell of his Anders, and the vampire was content.

He could control it. Mitchell would stay on top of feedings and not go too long. He’d take better care of himself and of Anders, and together they could keep his bloodlust from overwhelming them both. If something like this happened again, then he would talk to Anders and they would figure out a solution.

Mitchell refused to listen to the vampire part of him that insisted he would never give Anders up, that Anders belonged to him. That part snarled and growled at the idea of Anders going on without him. Instead he pushed that little voice aside and ignored it.

“I love you,” Mitchell murmured into Anders’ hair.

Nuzzling his face into Mitchell’s chest, Anders replied, “I love you too.”

With that, both sides of Mitchell – vampire and human – were content for now.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, kudos, and comments! 
> 
> As always, I am over at Tumblr. Feel free to come say hi! 
> 
> [[My personal blog]](http://myseri.tumblr.com/)   
>  [[My writing blog]](http://saucywenchwritingblog.tumblr.com/)   
> 


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